


Chapter XVI

by rhicola



Series: See You In Hindsight [17]
Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhicola/pseuds/rhicola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Themes of sexual and physical abuse.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Chapter XVI

**Author's Note:**

> Themes of sexual and physical abuse.

Daryl kept his eyes mainly on the man in the rearview mirror as he drove without protest, his heart thumping restlessly against his chest. He felt panicked and alert, like all of his senses had kicked into overdrive—and not even for himself, but for Beth, who eyed him from the backseat. The two exchanged a silent nod, agreeing nonverbally to go with the flow, let the Governor talk his talk while they came up with a plan to make it out of this alive…together.

But the plans Daryl had come up with while mindlessly following their captor’s directions went out the window as soon as they arrived at a town called Woodbury. A group of men surrounded the car, and with a gun still pressed threateningly to the back of his head, Daryl watched as Beth was pulled from the car and dragged off into a building. His heart sank in her absence and fear rose like a fiery pit in his gut, a familiar feeling with no clear memory attached to it. As he tried to place it, the Governor ordered him to get out of the vehicle.

“Did you hear me?” the man asked, punctuating his question by smacking Daryl in the back of the head with his gun.

Wincing, he shook his thoughts away, and stepped out of the car and into the custody of the Governor’s second group of men.

To his surprise, Daryl was guided into the same building Beth had entered a mere few moments beforehand, but she of course was nowhere in sight. As the group moved through the halls, two men gripped his wrists roughly and zip-tied them behind his back. He didn’t fight back because he didn’t see how it’d help him or Beth.

A hand came down on Daryl's shoulder and shoved him roughly to the left as one of the other men opened the door they then pushed him through. In the center of the room sat a chair and a table as if the room was set up specifically for conferences, but he had a sick feeling in his gut that told him they wouldn’t be discussing the location of the prison in a democratic way. The walls, which were made from sheets of corrugated metal, allowed voices to echo from neighboring rooms.

Daryl was seated. Each of his legs was tied down tightly and his hands were bound to the back of the chair. And as quickly as he was brought into the room, the men left and he was alone with his thoughts. Most of which were on Beth and where she was taken to and if she was okay and if she was put in the same situation he was in right now. His stomach knotted up nervously as he imagined it and he wanted nothing more than to get up and find her, be with her, help her. _But she can take care of herself_ , he thought; and even though he believed that wholeheartedly, he still worried about her well being.

The door opened again and the man who had originally captured them at gunpoint strode in, a smirk present on his lips. He stepped up to the table and leaned against it, his elbows locked into place and his eyes on Daryl. “So, where’s that prison of yours?” he began, his stare unfaltering.

“Where’s Beth?” Daryl countered quietly, shifting a little in his chair. The plastic zip-ties dug into his wrists as he pulled, rubbing the skin raw.

“Your little girlfriend?” The man smiled, finding Daryl’s weakness quickly. “She’s in good hands. No need to worry. You could see her a helluva lot sooner if you give up the prison’s location.”

The back of Daryl’s head throbbed as he weighed out his options. Tell this man where his family was located and save Beth, or resist and risk both of their lives? He knew what he wanted to do, but he also didn’t trust this guy. He didn’t trust anybody these days.

Swallowing hard, he pressed his lips into a thin line and remained silent, his gaze trained on the man in front of him. “No?” the Governor paused, and then let out a soft chuckle. “You don’t love her, huh? Just a little piece of ass from time to time?”

Daryl’s cheeks heated up with a blush that rapidly spread to his neck and ears, and he gulped again, willing himself not to correct the man, not to comment at all on his remarks.

“C’mon…” the Governor teased, gesturing toward his hostage to give him his name.

“Daryl.”

“Daryl! C’mon, Daryl. We’re both men, here.” He smirked again as he leaned into the table. “If you’re not gonna tell me how it feels when she’s quivering below you, one of my guys will.”

The man grinned, content with his tormenting and how it was affecting Daryl, who’d tensed up and looked away from him. He stepped around the wooden table, stopped in front of Daryl, and took out a switchblade, which he flipped open and held up to Daryl’s face. With the blade, the Governor turned Daryl’s face upward. “Wanna tell me where that prison is, Daryl?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How ‘bout…now?” the Governor asked, putting a little more pressure on the blade to break Daryl’s skin.

At this, Daryl gave a sarcastic laugh and sighed loudly. “You’re gonna hafta make it hurt if you want anythin’ from me.”

The Governor’s expression dropped and fury flashed across his eyes. He stood straight, raised his knife, and brought it down hard on Daryl’s leg just above his knee. Before Daryl could stop it, a gasp of pain slipped out of his mouth and echoed through the spacious room. He squirmed about in the chair he was bound to until the Governor tugged the knife out and threw it across the floor.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then,” the Governor reasoned.

He gripped Daryl’s shoulder with one hand and swung a punch with his other, colliding squarely with the left side of Daryl’s face. Another groan escaped from the pit of Daryl’s stomach as he breathed through the pain and kept a level head.

“Tha’s’all you got?” he taunted and spat a wad of blood on the floor. “Where’d you learn to fight? Your Powder Puff Football League?”

Angry and probably embarrassed, the Governor thumped Daryl in the face two more times before throwing a third one to his gut.

“Gonna cooperate yet?”

The archer shook his head earnestly, readying himself for another blow, the way that he’d come accustomed to at an early, early age. After three more strikes to the face, the interrogator grasped a handful of Daryl’s hair and pulled his head up to meet his eye.

“Where’s your prison?” he requested again, pulling at Daryl’s hair harder and harder with each second he didn’t answer.

“Hair-pulling? You really know what I like.” Daryl gave the man a bloody, toothy grin and received another punch to the face.

Only this time, the Governor didn’t stop.

~*~*~*~ 

Beth checked out during the drive to Woodbury. She quickly grew accustomed to the barrel of a gun against her temple, and found the Governor's constant talk more annoying than intimidating. He was so smug. The girl retreated into her thoughts and was only brought back to the present when she was separated from Daryl. She was fully animated within the same second, kicking and screaming, attempting to bite when her captor's skin came close enough to her mouth. She flailed her arms around and demanded to stay with Daryl. The Hispanic man dragging her away just chuckled to himself in response.

Her manic rage ended abruptly when the man left her alone in a room. She assessed her situation and promptly laid her head against the metal table in front of her. The cool surface calmed her nerves slightly, and helped her think more clearly. She took deep breaths and waited. And waited.

She fully expected the Governor to come strutting into the room after he decided just the right amount of time had passed to break down her ego. He was probably waiting for her to get thirsty, hungry or to need to go to the bathroom; maybe even all three — probably all three. She made a meticulous plan of how she would act when the Governor finally came. Beth created imaginary scenarios depending on various different things the Governor could do. She wracked her brain for all of the information Maggie had told her about what she went through here. But there just wasn't much at all she knew to expect.

It could've been thirty seconds or thirty minutes before Daryl's screaming started. She could hear a muffled version of the sound reverberating from the other side of the wall. It felt like her heart was very literally breaking from the pain Daryl was experiencing. Her mind wandered to how exactly those sounds were being forced out of him, no matter how hard she tried to stop herself from picturing it.

His groans made it damn near impossible for her to concentrate, so she kept repeating the words she'd say to the Governor to herself over and over. She imagined various ways for her to incapacitate him, but as badass as they all seemed, she knew in her heart that she probably could not subdue the Governor unarmed.

The constant repeating of her venomous words was hyping her up for a confrontation. Add that to the sounds of Daryl Dixon in pain, and Beth became a time bomb just waiting to explode. But her plans and confidence flew out the window when Merle Dixon walked into the room.

Her mind reeled for a moment. Daryl's screaming hadn't stopped, so it wasn't Merle torturing his brother. But how could he just stand there staring at her so arrogantly when his little brother — his beautiful, brilliant, brave little brother — yelped in pain from the other room? Beth's confusion quickly turned to more rage. Daryl deserved so much better than the man standing before her as a big brother. Her veins froze over as she stared back at the man, as she watched him watch her struggle with all of these emotions. She set her jaw.

"Merle," she whispered under her breath, but as she opened her mouth, Merle started over her.

"Listen here, lil girl," he said as he grabbed the empty chair from across the table and obnoxiously loudly moved it so that it was right next to her — too close to her. He sat down with his vile face right up in hers. She didn't flinch. "Let's get somethin' straight. You're gonna tell me the location of this prison of yours or I'm gonna force ya to do somethin' much more embarrassin' for you. Either way, I win. So let's make it easy on the both of us, shall we?"

Merle sneered at her — so abundantly slimy it caused a shiver to creep up her spine. "I'm not going to tell you anything, Merle," Beth spoke through gritted teeth.

"Oh ho ho," Merle fake-laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head lazily. "Someone has the upper hand here, sweetheart." He smiled at her, but there was something evil behind that smile. His fist suddenly came down hard against the table. "How the fuck do you know my name?"

Beth grinned smugly, leaning back herself, trying to act as calm, cool and collected as possible.

"Well if you're not gonna tell me, I guess I'mma have to start guessin'," Merle said with a shrug that showed he was enjoying this too much. "Let's see. Did I fuck ya back before the world went ta shit? Did I forget to call?" Merle whined, rubbing his cheeks the way little kids do when they pretend to cry.

Beth simply scoffed.

"Okay, okay, did my brother —"

"Don't you want to know where the prison is, Merle?" Beth interrupted before he got out the rest of his question.

She saw Merle grind his teeth in frustration. "I'm the one asking the questions here, lil girl. Where's the prison?"

"I'm not going to tell you that."

A flash of anger splashed over Merle's face before being replaced with the kind of arrogance only a man can carry. He stood, forcing Beth to look up to meet his eyes. "Then take your shirt off."

"Hell no."

Shrugging his shoulders, Merle's voice was laced with sarcasm, "Well those are your only two options, sweetheart."

Beth simply tilted her head in a silent defiance.

Before she could blink, Merle lifted his knifed hand and forced it carefully under her breasts, piercing through the fabric of her shirt.

~*~*~*~ 

Daryl’s head was foggy with thoughts that melted together and confused him, the cognizant part of him at least. After another ten minutes of the Governor’s beatings, he’d given in to the pain and given up on the sarcastic replies. Instead, he handled it the way that he had as a child bearing his father’s drunken anger: by doing nothing at all.

His face hurt the most, so much so that he’d forgotten about the stab wound in his thigh. His torso throbbed with bruised—if not broken—ribs and sticky blood flowed freely from his freshly broken nose. The ties around his wrists had cut open his skin during his struggle and his joints were stiff from the force of the Governor’s blows against his tensed muscles.

But all of that didn’t matter anymore because Daryl was long gone, fading in and out of consciousness.

He looked up in time to see the Governor’s fist before it struck him just under his chin, knocking his head back hard. The lights above him seemed to blink and fade before his eyes. Grunting, he let his head hang as he breathed heavily, his chest aching with each inhalation.

“Stop,” Daryl whispered inaudibly.

The Governor leaned in, gripped Daryl’s chin, and forced him to look up. “What’d you say?”

“Asked you to stop.” As he spoke, blood dripped into his facial hair, matting it.

Daryl lifted his swollen eyes and found not the face of the Governor, but his father’s, sad and hollow swimming in a blood alcohol level much higher than the legal driving limit. He flinched and ducked his head, trying to hide his face in his shoulder.

“Or what, Daryl?” the Governor ridiculed, his words slurring in Daryl’s mind. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothin’,” he replied softly. His head rolled painfully and lolled to the opposite side. “I ain’t done nothin’.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

The Governor laughed forcefully and kicked Daryl’s abdomen, making him cough out another moan of pain. “Just tell me, Daryl. And all of this could be over.”

Daryl shook his head groggily, and it swam with memories, nightmares he’d buried deep long ago. “Didn’t take her cigarettes. It was…” Daryl’s voice trailed off as he cringed and tried lifting his arms to block a punch the Governor hadn’t thrown. “It wasn’t me!”

He pulled at his restraints and the chair skidded forward. “Stop! Please!” he called out, whining as he tried to avoid another invisible punch.

The Governor had moved back, realizing suddenly that Daryl wasn’t aware of what was going on. He was somewhere else mentally, a distant recollection that took him far away from Woodbury. He stepped forward again and slapped the blubbering man across the face, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

“It was Merle! Please!” Daryl responded drunkenly. He sucked in air as he wept and coughed up more blood. “Please stop…”

 

~*~*~*~

 

"Don't," Beth whispered.

"You don't call the shots here, lil girl," he sneered as he ripped her shirt a little higher with the blade of the knife.

"Your brother won't be happy about this."

The knife quickly slipped out of her shirt and she could see a flash of light dancing off the blade from above her. She gasped in fear, as Merle's hand sliced the air in front of her face, scraping her chin with the knife. At least, that's what she noticed at first. And then her forearm suddenly felt like it was lit on fire, and her wrist pulsed with the force of blood gushing out of her skin. Beth felt disoriented at first, staring at the fresh cut across her wrist. The redness of the blood spilling out made her dizzy. All of a sudden, this pain was all she could focus on, and it almost gave her a sense of euphoria, a sense of peace. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: This was the exact spot she'd cut when trying to kill herself the first time. And then there was just pain.

The pain made her head throb. Her heart stopped, then jolted to life and sputtered around inside her chest. For the first time since the Governor spoke to her and Daryl at the store she considered giving up the location of the prison, just to make it stop.

And then she thought of Daryl. The screaming was done, or maybe the pain kept her from hearing it now. But her heart swelled with the thought of him. And she found strength in the idea that he was just a wall away.

"I know your brother," she said finally.

Merle scoffed in response, unfazed by the pain he had inflicted.

"Who do you think was screaming, Merle!?" Beth demanded, motioning with her head toward the room where they were keeping Daryl.

"You're wrong!" Merle screamed, refusing to consider her notion. "Now tell me where tha damn prison is!"

"Not until you take me to him! You, Merle! I want you to see what the Governor has done to your brother."

"Shut up! You don't know shit!"

"You know I'm right, Merle."

The man growled angrily. His arm came around her, grabbed the back of her chair, and spun her around. He bent down, his lips touching the hair against her ear. The knife pushed against the fabric of her shirt again, and Beth froze as he ripped what was left away from her body. She didn't move for fear he'd pierce her skin. He wrapped his arm around her neck, and pulled her out of the chair. He overpowered her easily, and pushed the knife against her back and she screamed as her bra snapped apart. The man pushed her away then, and her arms flew around in front of her as she crossed them over her bare chest. She breathed for a moment before the knife was at her back again.

"Move!" Merle demanded, opening the door into an empty hallway. "We're gonna go see this brother of mine."

His laughter made it clear he still didn’t believe what she was saying, which made the realization that Merle was actually about to see his brother even sweeter. Beth kept her mouth shut. Because she knew more about this situation than Merle ever could, but Merle was under the impression he was in control. And if he had a heart at all, it would break seeing whatever state the Daryl was in thanks to the Governor.

And while the last thing she wanted to do was see Daryl battered and bruised, at least they would be together again, and they could figure a way out of this place alive.

 


End file.
